Reasons Why I Hate Santana Lopez
by queenOhearts
Summary: AU: 21 year-old Sebastian Smith wishes to end his "friendship" with his childhood friend, Santana Lopez. To do so, he writes her a list of reasons of why he hates her. However, as he lists down each reason they don't sound as bad as he had perceived them to be.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_ or any of it characters.

AN: I intend this to be a oneshot but if it is requested of me enough I will make this a multi-chapter story. But as of right now it is complete. Enjoy!

Dear Miss Granger,

If you may, please excuse me from refraining from addressing you by your first name. I am not yet comfortable with calling you Hermione nor do I think I deserve the right to do so. But I refuse to refer to you with any title that expresses anything less than respect. You, of all the women in the world, deserve nothing less than that.

I know for a fact that this seems quite odd to you. Firstly, I, Draco Malfoy, have chosen to send you a letter that contains no insults or threats or anything else of the like. Secondly, I am complimenting you in earnest. All in all, if I were you I would be afraid for my sanity.

However, with the war over and the pair of us returned to the school to finish our education I have found that with fewer familiar faces around than there were before the war, my eyes have drifted to you more often than they should. I have very few friends anymore, with most of them having withdrawn from school or rejecting me for leaving the battle like a coward. And honestly, I was a coward. I ran away from a battle that I had helped to start and didn't have the balls to stick through to the end. If I was a decent human being I would have died for my beliefs, wrong as they were. At least that way I would have stood for something instead of cowering with my tail between my legs.

You on the other hand fought more bravely than I could have dreamed of myself in my entire lifetime. A muggle born witch stood where a pureblood wizard dared not and came out victorious. That is extraordinarily admirable.

These past few months since our return to Hogwarts I have been noticing you more and more. The war hero, Hermione Granger, caught my eye initially. She stood proud and served as a beacon of hope alongside Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, our guides into a new, peaceful world. You put on a smile to shine against the sadness and you carried on with your schooling like the war had never happened. I could see students taking after your example and slowly returning to normality.

But after she caught my eye, my attentions focused on someone else. The eighteen-year-old girl, Hermione Granger, who was exhausted by the weight of all of the people looking to her for guidance. You hide it quite well, but I spend too much time looking at you to have not noticed. You are tired, Miss Granger, and I don't mean tired with the fight or tired of being who you are, but just plain tired. There was no time for you to rest or heal because you were helping others rest and heal.

Now don't get me wrong. I can still see fight in you. There is still strength in your spirit and there is steel in your eyes but your soul is in need of a rest. You have spent far too long protecting others and being a support that you have failed to find support for yourself. Of course you have your two boys, but even they cannot lean against you in the way you need them to. They cannot hold you as you cry just to relieve the tension in your bones. They cannot pick up the glass that you shatter when the twitch in your fingers has become too much to bear. They cannot rub the soles of your feet after you have stood so strong for so long. And they cannot whisper to you soft words to slow the beating of your speeding heart.

So with this I would like to strike you with a proposal. Allow me to do these things for you.

I have never been a kind person and I don't know how to take care of others. But, unlike you, I am tired with the way I am. I am tired of being a coward, of being the person that everyone hates, of being ashamed of myself, and of not being useful. I have done and said a great deal of hurtful things to you and for that I am truly sorry. It has been slow but I am trying to be a better person, please believe me. If you will allow me, please let me learn how to be your support beam. Teach me how to take care of you when you need to rest and let me stand behind to catch you when you may fall. I don't need everyone to like me, I just need you. If others come to forgive me then I will owe it all to you and I will not leave your side for it. It will be a long a hard road, but I can assure you that I will be with you every step of the way.

If you believe this is some way I have found to repent for my wrongdoings then you are right. But this is also my way of becoming a better man. I don't wish to be a coward anymore. For the woman who protects everyone in need I want to be the one to protect you. At the end of the day, after you have saved the world, please allow me to save you. I don't wish to be a pureblood, nor a wizard, nor a coward. I want to show to you that I can become a man. So if you will permit it, let me take care of you.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own _Glee_ or any of its characters.

AN: This chapter is a short one. It will also probably be a while until my next update since I work a full-time graveyard shift and I pretty much only eat and sleep outside of work. But I will try to update daily.

...

**Reason 2**

She tried to become my friend in first grade, and what's worse is she succeeded. But it can only be called success if she actually thinks that our weird relationship is friendship and if threats are acceptable ways to start them.

Santana Lopez walked to me one day in the middle of the first quarter of first grade with a look of determination engraved on her face. I knew she was bound to do something because she hadn't thrown a single crayon at me since the school year started.

"Hey Girly Boy!" she said. I don't know if she didn't know my name or she refused to call me it, but Girly Boy was what she called me. I'm pretty sure she wasn't trying to be mean, although she did throw crayons at my head for the duration of a year, but even then she was just protecting her heart.

"What?" I asked, looking around the classroom for the closest exit.

She stood directly in front of me, placing her hands on her hips in a true Santana Lopez fashion, "I'm done throwing crayons at you. I don't think you'll break my heart anymore."

I chuckled nervously, unsure of how to respond. I smiled a little, "Is that it?"

"No," she threw her hair out of her face: it had grown longer since we had first met and was now down to her waist. "I want you to be my friend," she continued, "but if you won't be my friend I'll throw a box of crayons at your head every day until you die."

I quickly nodded my head in reply. And then she did something I'd never seen her do before because I was always to afraid to look at her except for when she approached me. Santana Lopez smiled at me for the first time. Of course I'd seen her countless times over our kindergarten year, but not once did I ever see her smile. She was always scowling, and she was scowling at me. But the first time she smiled at me was amazing.

Not that I liked it. It wasn't like a beautiful smile where the sun magically brightened and she looked like an angel. It was the toothy grin of a six year old girl missing one of her front teeth. I probably just thought it was amazing because I had never seen her smile before which was like catching one of the English Royal Guard zipping his fly. Her face had always struck fear into my heart, but her smiling face wasn't that bad. When she smiled she actually looked like a girl, instead of the demon spawn of Satin.

If I hadn't said yes to becoming her friend I'm pretty sure I would have never seen her smile. I'm also pretty sure that she would have held true to her promise and thrown crayon boxes at my head for the rest of my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! As promised I have a new chapter for you. I will keep trying to update daily but I can't make any promises. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own _Glee_ or any of its characters.

...

**Reason 3**

In the second grade she poured Elmer's Glue onto the head of a little girl in my class and then had the nerve to blame it on me. Can you believe it! Apparently I used magic to transport myself to the other side of the classroom just to terrorize that girl before transporting back to where I was, all within ten seconds. I wasn't even near any glue! I had seen Santana grab a jar of it so I decided to draw with markers, just so I could avoid having to ask her for anything.

She had been oddly quiet since we had started the school year. With my wishful thinking I had thought that she was forgetting about me because we were in different classes this year and we only got to see each other during our two recess breaks. There were a few other girls in her class that had begun to play with her, limiting the time she spent with me. But it didn't bother me at all. In fact, once I had realized what was happening, I was so elated that I ran as fast as my seven-year-old sized legs could allow me around the school yard. It didn't matter that I could see her out of the corner of my eye, scowling at me from within her group of girlfriend because she was there, and I wasn't! I wasn't tied to her! It also didn't matter that I tripped on a soccer ball and landed on my face, earning myself a beautiful bloody nose! I just kicked the ball away and continued running like the free bird that I was. And when I could run no more I just sat down and smiled, staring right at Santana Lopez, daring her to imprison me with friendship again.

Then one day our teachers decided to get our second grade classes together for a special arts and crafts activity time. We were allowed to paint or draw or create anything we wanted with whoever we wanted but I had chosen to keep to myself. Before, during arts and crafts time, Santana would always sit next to me and make mean comments about what I was doing to I was excited to be able to draw without feeling bad about it. She was on the other side of the room and, although she would glance at me every now and then, she stayed put and my drawing remained without criticism.

So there I was, minding my own business, drawing a rainbow over a little stick-figure me, standing in a field of flowers when I heard the shrill scream of a person behind me. Along with everyone else in the classroom I went to see what had happened but stopped before I could get too close. Standing above a crying little girl who had white glue dripping down her head was Santana Lopez, hands shaking with anger. She looked absolutely terrifying because although it was obvious to me that she was upset, her face was straight and emotionless.

"Oops," came out of her mouth in the non-apologetic tone of voice she would grow into through our years together. However, that was the first time I had experienced her using it and I found myself scared shitless because compared to all of the other girls our age, she seemed like an entirely different creature. She was the monster in the closet and while I had known she was there, I had hid underneath of my blankets to avoid looking at her because when you actually meet the closet monster your fears instantly become very real.

One teacher ran up to the crying girl to soothe her while the other had grabbed Santana and taken her from the classroom. Through the window I could see the teacher scolding her before she was brought back in to clean her things and grab her backpack. After that she was taken to the principal and we didn't see her for three days.

When she came back to school the first person she went to was me. I was sitting alone in the grass and out of nowhere she had appeared in the grass at my side.

She glared at me briefly before saying "It's your fault that I was suspended, you know."

First I blinked in confusion, and then I shook with disbelief. Before I could stop myself I yelled "How is that my fault?"

But Santana Lopez was not one to be swayed in the face of danger. Despite my anger she merely shrugged her shoulders and said, "If you weren't so weird I wouldn't have had to put glue in her hair."

Still not understanding her but too upset to face her, I turned around, not willing to move or speak.

A soft sigh came from behind me back. "That girl said that because you are my friend you had to be a mean boy since I'm a mean girl. She said that when you were running around, you kicked a ball and it hit her but you didn't say sorry. She said you were the meanest person in the world. So I put glue in her hair."

Slowly, I turned back around to face her. She was looking down at her small hands that were clasped in her lap and I swore it looked like she was about to cry. "I still don't know how it's my fault" I said, not knowing how to respond to her.

In a second her head shot up and her eyes were alight with fire. "Because if you weren't my friend then no one would think you're mean and I wouldn't have had to use the glue!" she yelled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"B-but" I stuttered, "you made me be your friend."

She glared and stood up, "And you could have said no!"

Even as a kid I understood that girls were crazy, but I quickly discovered that Santana Lopez was the craziest of all the crazies. Not only did she blame me for her actions but apparently she also forgot that she threatened my life if I didn't become her friend. And then, after that day, she started to hang out with me again like nothing had happened, like we weren't in different classes, like she didn't make any new friends and like she didn't go bat shit crazy and ruin some little girl's hair.

It doesn't matter that it was kind of cute that she was defending my honor or that her sad face was adorable. No, none of that matters. I could no longer be by myself during recess because she forced me to play with her and I could no longer sit alone in the grass and watch all of the other kids play together because she would sit with me. Santana Lopez knows no compassion so I can't even imagine that she came back to me because she thought I was lonely. No, she just wanted to torment me.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own _Glee_ or any of its characters.

...

**Reason 4**

Santana Lopez is a filthy, sneaky, deceitful, little liar. She always had been and she always will be. There is no way in hell that she would ever change, or at least try to, because the crazy bitch enjoys it. Yeah, that's right Santana, I called you a bitch! Do something about it!

During the summer between our second and third grade years in elementary school, our parents had decided that we should all meet up for a play date. I don't know how they even met each other or knew that we were friends, but moms are sly like that. They just happen to know everything.

Anyways, my mom took me out one day without telling me where we were going, like it was supposed to be a surprise. But she had promised me that I would like it. That was a lie. Sure, I was excited when we drove into the lot of Chuckie Cheese's but all of that went down the shit-hole when I saw Santana standing out front with her mother. Within the thirty seconds that it took for us to park and walk to the entrance of the entertainment center I believe I had come up with every excuse an eight-year-old's mind could think of to go back home. I had a belly ache. My feet hurt. I peed myself. I was sad because my hamster died (I didn't have a hamster). I was sad because my friend's hamster died (I didn't have any friends, just the devil). But my mom just pulled me along, yelling for Santana's mom and talking to her like they were old friends, which they were but I didn't find that out until much later.

Now this was where things got weird. First I noticed that an alien had taken over Santana's little body. She quietly stood next to her mother, a small angelic smile on her face as she was introduced to my mother, hands clasped behind her back and head tucked low in embarrassment. That was funny, because nothing embarrasses Santana Lopez. Literally, she had once taken off her shirt at school because it was too hot like it was nothing. Eight-year-old Santana didn't have boobs yet, but still. So for her to suddenly appear embarrassed about something, the only logical reason for her actions was aliens.

Oh, but things didn't stop there; they got worse. Santana Lopez, normally messy eater, ate her pizza delicately with small bites and even wiped her hands on her napkin instead of her. Selfish Santana Lopez shared her tokens with me, smiling all the while. Crazy Santana Lopez even held my hand to take pictures with Chuckie and our moms. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore.

With a straight face I walked up to my mom and said, "We need to go home. Santana is weird and I don't like her today."

Needless to say, the look on my mom's face said 'If there weren't any witnesses right now, I'd spank the shit out of you'. But instead she just told me to suck it up and say sorry to Santana. I had commented on the fact that she was off playing a game and didn't even hear what I said but my mom pinched my ear and told me to do it anyways.

Grudgingly, I went off to find her and say sorry although when I found her she was back to her old self.

"I'm sorry for calling you weird and not liking you today," I said as quietly as possible, hoping she hadn't heard me.

She just shrugged and kept playing her game, "I don't care. I don't like you every day anyways. You whine too much."

For some reason, after three years of tolerating her, this was the first thing she had said that really got my blood boiling. "Well at least I hang out with you. No one want's to be your friend because you're mean. You don't even act like a girl. You act like a stupid bully."

Santana stopped playing her game and her eyes went blank. I had just blurted out the meanest and most clever thing that my child's mind could come up with without thinking of the consequences. But she stayed strong, not saying a word, so I did the same. I straightened my back and looked at her with the meanest face I could make. However, she refused to look at me. Instead, she left and went to her mom who approached me and my mom not shortly after, excusing herself and Santana from our play date because she was feeling sick.

But I knew better. She put on that fake smile, kissed my mom on the cheek and hugged me before she left. It didn't matter how cute I thought she looked when she shyly met my mom and it didn't matter that I had a little fun playing games with her. It especially didn't matter that my hands got a little clammy when she held my hand. Her lying ways didn't faze me. All that mattered was that I left her speechless because I had stood up for myself for the first time. I absolutely didn't feel bad about being mean to her. I promise I didn't.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own _Glee_ or any of its characters

...

**Reason 5**

As a child Santana Lopez didn't take very good care of herself. During our third and fourth grades she was constantly getting hurt because her awkwardly growing body was too much for her to keep up with. So naturally I was stuck looking out for her. We hardly spent time with anyone but each other so there was really no one else for her to turn to.

It was only a little stressful having to constantly watch her back to make sure she didn't trip on her feet that were too large, or that her hair didn't get caught in any elevated objects because she wasn't aware of how tall she was. I was still small and puberty was still a long ways off for me, but with Santana being a girl it naturally hit her earlier. So again, since Santana didn't know much about her transforming body she wasn't able to take care of herself and I was excruciatingly forced to experience female puberty closer than any man who isn't a father should.

Nearing the end of the fourth grade, after having gone through one broken arm, a haircut following a devastating attack from a wire fence, the awkwardness of training bras, and an attitude that was snippier than usual, 10-year-old Santana Lopez had gone through the brunt of her puberty. She had nothing left in store for me that would surprise me, or so I thought.

During our last week of the school year, as we were playing tetherball outside at recess, Santana had excused herself to use the restroom. I thought nothing of it and continued to practice my swing with the tied ball because Santana had quite a strong arm. But as I practiced and practiced, I realized that she had been gone for a long while so I went to go look for her. However, she was already walking towards me with her head down and tears in her eyes.

I ran to her to see what was wrong, not worried of course but more afraid that she would take out whatever was troubling her on me. She refused to look up at me at first, not that she would have been able to answer me through her sobbing and hiccups. By the time that she had managed to calm down enough to tell me what was wrong a yard duty had already wandered over to us and a few other kids on the playground had begun to watch, because Santana Lopez isn't one to cry. Finally, since she wouldn't tell the yard duty what was wrong, she whispered into my ear the problem. Unfortunately, my reaction was a little more than she had expected.

"You're bleeding from your peepee!" I yelled in disbelief.

And she promptly punched me in the face.

The yard duty grabbed her hand and calmly lead her to the nurse's office, leaving me on the ground, holding my swelling right eye. But I guess I deserved it. While I had no idea what a period was, apparently a lot of the other children that had witnessed what had happened knew what it was. Santana left school early that day, but when she returned the next the taunting began. She was laughed at, teased, and called "the rising sun" which I didn't understand until she told me to look up the Japanese flag in the class atlas. Kids are more sympathetic to puberty as they grow older and your friends experience it at the same time, but for early bloomers like Santana it was a traumatizing affair.

Of course she acted like she didn't care and she had repeatedly said that it just meant that she was a woman stuck amongst children, but when it was just me and her I could tell that she was really hurt. We would sit by ourselves in a dark and secluded area, holding hands and saying nothing. She would keep curl her knees up to her chest and tuck her head there and would just quietly squeeze her hand. I don't know what had compelled me to do it the first time but seeing that it seemed to comfort her, I continued to do it until our last day of school.

While we were sitting down, during our last recess of the day before we would go back inside to clean out our desks before summer break, she pulled her head out of her lap and asked in the softest voice I had ever heard her use, "Will you be my friend forever."

I laughed, a small cruel laugh to be coming from a nine-year-old's mouth, and replied "I thought that was part of the deal."

Santana gave me a questioning look and it was obvious that she had forgotten how she had made me her friend in the first place. But instead of reminding her of it, I just nodded my head and put my arm around her shoulders. A small smile graced her lips for the briefest of seconds before it disappeared into a frown at the approach of a few boys from our class. They were all laughing and pointing at us and I instantly knew that something bad was about to happen.

"Hey look, Sebastian and the rising sun are cuddling" one said.

"Hey Sebastian, get your hands off of her or you might get blood all over yourself" another teased.

"Santana, don't see yourself or you'll get blood everywhere. Someone will think you died" another laughed.

She began to push herself up off of the floor but I had beaten her to it. Before I had known it, my fist had connected with a face of one of the bullies. Then my other fist had connected with a gut and my foot had hit a groin. I was seeing red and couldn't stop myself, even after the group of boys had realized what was happening and began to gang up on me. Santana had tried to join in the fight but I pushed her back and told her to stay out of it. The look of shock on her face was one I would never forget.

I don't remember how many boys I was fighting, there could have been anywhere from three to six. All I remember was telling myself not to give up because they had no right to say what they did to Santana. I got my ass beat well, but I had something pushing me to keep going so as they began to get tired I was only starting. It wasn't long before they were either falling to the ground or running away. By the time a yard duty had come over to us, I had one the fight, albeit a busted lip, another black eye to add to the one Santana had given me, a split cheek, and bloody knuckles. I was still shaking when Santana hugged me before I was led away for punishment.

Since it was the last day of the school year I was let go with just a warning, but I still blame Santana to this day for my downfall. If she had known how to take better care of herself and knew about her changing body the whole situation could have been avoided. When she started her period she could have gone straight to the nurse and nobody would have had to have known. But no, she came to me. I don't care if she trusted me enough to tell me something so frightening for a ten-year-old girl. I also don't care that she and I became closer because of the incident either. What matters is that after the fight, when school came back around the next year I was labeled a bad boy. And to that, with Santana by my side, I said fuck it.

...

AN: Sorry for the late update! I had to work overtime yesterday so by the time I got to my computer I was half dead. I fell asleep on my keyboard :(

Anyways, please excuse the language in this chapter. I want Sebastian to slowly start to grow into the mean guy that he is on the show and I thought that this was a good place to start. The language is probably going to get worse. Just a heads up.

Also, if you have kids, then please talk to them about puberty. The situation that Santana went through was actually my own experience. While I can laugh about it now, it was very traumatizing when I was ten. So, no offense, I'm not telling you how to raise your children, but it helps to avoid your child from coming home from school crying because of it.


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